


You Make My Heart Beat (Faster)

by lady_ragnell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Light Medical Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles listens to Derek's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make My Heart Beat (Faster)

**Author's Note:**

> Written partially because obviously porn is the way to celebrate marriage equality and partially because **itachitachi** declared an emergency shortage of bottom!Derek the other day. Also, I suspect no one is surprised that my first porn for this fandom is about 90% feelings. Title from Matt Nathanson's "Faster," because I am shameless.
> 
> **Warnings:** light medical kink, brief references to violence and past character death

Stiles interrupts his and Derek’s post-battle yay-we-survived-another-life-threatening-experience fuck-a-thon when he gets Derek’s pants off only to find he’s got a still-bleeding slice in his leg. “I am going to start buying red sheets so I stop having to replace them as much,” he decides, and gets off the bed. “Maybe the satin kind, but would that make me look skeezy? I think I’m too young to turn into Quagmire. Why aren’t you healing?”

“Some mountain ash got in the wound, it’s holding things up, it’s fine, Stiles, come back here.”

Derek’s angry face when he’s feeling blue-balled is kind of the most hilarious thing ever, but Stiles stays strong and pulls the suitcase with his first aid supplies out from under his bed. “Nope, I categorically refuse to have sex with you when it looks like you need stitches.” He shuffles through the bottles and packages in the suitcase looking for his extra bottle of hydrogen peroxide, since his primary one got emptied out after their last run-in with a pack that didn’t like them and he hasn’t had time to replace it yet. “Sorry about the mountain ash, was that my fault?”

“I was standing too close.” Derek leans over the bed and his brows draw together when he sees what Stiles is doing. “Why is your first-aid kit a suitcase?”

“Scott and I were accident prone, then Scott was a werewolf. Also, my dad is a police officer.” With all that and with what he’s been able to steal from Ms. McCall, he may as well run his own pharmacy. “Aha!” The second bottle is tangled up with the stethoscope that’s the piece of equipment he’s had the longest, since his mom bought it when he had pneumonia as a kid and gave it to him afterwards because he wanted to be a doctor for Halloween. “There we go.”

“Don’t waste your supplies. I’ll heal.”

Stiles shoves the suitcase away. He can put everything back where it was later. Sex is definitely more of a priority, he just doesn’t want Derek wincing his way through it, they do that way too often. He’s probably going to develop some sadomasochistic kinks based on how often he and Derek have sex in the adrenaline crash while they’re bruised and sore. “Yeah, but this will help you do it _faster_.”

Before Derek can keep arguing, he uncaps the bottle and pours a little into the cut. Derek breathes in, hard, hands clenching into fists, but the wound starts closing a few seconds later so Stiles is going to chalk that up as a win for modern medicine. He is, however, feeling magnanimous, so he doesn’t crow about it when Derek slits his eyes open. “Are you coming to bed now?”

“Sure.” He almost trips over the stethoscope standing up and picks it up on his way, turns it over in his hands.

“We had one of those,” Derek says unexpectedly, and Stiles almost drops it, because Derek and the past tense do not go together at all. Stiles has heard him reminisce about his family three times and two of those were to Isaac when he thought Stiles couldn’t hear. They have a lot of sex, but they aren’t really boyfriend-y. They are exclusive, long-term fuckbuddies. That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.

Stiles tries to hit the mark somewhere between curious but not prying. “Wouldn’t think you’d need one, what with the supersenses.”

“I had human cousins. They wanted to know what it was like to hear our heartbeats. It was one of the few things we could show them.”

“Huh.” He toys with it a little more, sits on the edge of the bed. This is way deeper than anything non-life-threatening that he and Derek talk about. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that. Anyway, how’s the leg?” Derek’s huffy sigh (he is totally a pouter, he pretends he is not but it is both obvious and hilarious that he is used to pouting to getting his way) is answer enough to that. “Yeah, yeah, you’re made of iron, you’re Captain America, able to take debilitating wounds and still have sex afterwards.”

“Not,” Derek grits out, “if you don’t shut up.”

“You were the one being Mr. Chatty, I was just trying to tend to your wounds.” He flails around until he’s straddling Derek’s hips and looks at him from under his lashes. “Aren’t I a good nurse?”

Derek groans and tips his head back. “If you think that’s turning me on, you are—”

“Your boner disagrees,” Stiles says, grinding back against it pointedly. He fumbles for the stethoscope and puts it on, grinning when Derek rolls his eyes. “Come on, Mr. Hale, time for your check-up. Um, turn your head and cough?”

Apparently Derek has no patience for roleplaying, because all that makes him do is tug insistently on Stiles’s shoulders until they’re chest to chest and Derek can kiss him, nuzzle into his neck like he always does and always denies later that he does. The thump of the end of the stethoscope as it’s crushed between their bodies is deafening and Stiles winces, pulling it out from between them and then, more out of curiosity than anything else, presses the cold circle into Derek’s chest.

It’s just rushing, a weird static crackle, until Derek pauses where he’s mouthing at Stiles’s neck and moves it until it’s right over his heart, presses down. Then it’s a steady, even thump, Derek’s blood rushing right in his ears. “Whoa,” he says, probably too loud. Derek’s chest rumbles under his hand, and it takes a second to remember to pull one of the earpieces out. “What?”

“Are you going to do anything?”

Stiles bites down on Derek’s neck, not quite hard enough to draw blood, and pulls away to watch it heal up. “Yes, definitely, all about doing things. Lube?” Derek gets it out from under the pillow but shoves the tube into Stiles’s hands instead of slathering his fingers up. Stiles looks from Derek to the lube and back again. “Am I getting myself ready?”

“You should …” Derek’s heartbeat, only in one of Stiles’s ears right now, hitches ever so slightly. “You should hear what it sounds like when you fuck me.”

He will never get over the way that Derek fails so hard at dirty talk that he comes over the other side of being amazing at it. He’s pretty sure that was just an observation but his dick is pretty sure Derek is suddenly a porn star, so he takes a second to collect himself. It’s not like he’s never topped before, but usually he has to ask first. “Totally on board with that plan,” he manages after a second of stunned silence, and puts the stethoscope back in his ears before opening the cap on the lube.

To his shock, Derek shoves his hand off the stethoscope and holds it against his own chest, raising his eyebrows in impatience when Stiles can’t help staring at him a little more. His heartbeat is even again, and Stiles knows his own must be all over the place, erratic as always, faster with being turned on. It’s good having something steady in his head, like a tether, but uncomfortable too, like Derek is less into it than he is.

Well, he decides in the same thought, he’ll just have to _get_ Derek into it, and then he’s pouring lube onto his fingers (and Derek’s chest, and the sheets, his aim isn’t great) and teasing down Derek’s stomach with his other hand, leaning back down to mouth at his collarbone. They’re awesome at foreplay.

Derek takes one finger easy, arches into it and Stiles feels his breath stutter along with his heart, just once before it evens out again—only to hitch again when Stiles moves around, goes for the prostate. His chest is rumbling again, maybe words, maybe just grunts, but Stiles figures he’ll push him if he wants Stiles to stop so he keeps going, keeps listening to Derek’s heart. It’s kind of mind-blowing, listening to Derek’s heart rate pick up so slowly that Stiles thinks he’s imagining it at first, and he wonders if the werewolves feel like this all the time, like they can feel the life in everyone around them. He doesn’t have the smell along with it, but the hearing is plenty, enough that he’s starting to be shocked werewolves don’t spend their whole lives standing still fixated on the heartbeats of everything around them. Scott’s obsession with listening to Allison suddenly makes a whole lot more sense.

Stiles realizes he’s been frozen with his mouth gaped open and his eyes closed for a little too long when Derek impatiently hitches his hips up, moving Stiles’s finger. He opens his eyes, grimaces apologetically at Derek’s expression, and adds a second finger to make up for it. He likes this, when they aren’t riding the adrenaline rush right after a battle, just taking his time opening Derek up, sometimes blowing him at the same time, but as he keeps going with Derek’s heartbeat pounding in his ears he’s starting to get that Derek likes it too, isn’t just indulging Stiles but _wants_ it. “Holy shit, dude,” he says, too loud again, and he knows the pattern of Derek’s rumble means _stop calling me that_ and that’s … something to revisit later, maybe, how he can anticipate Derek’s responses enough that he doesn’t have to hear the words. For now, though, he just gets out “Okay, fine” and keeps going, feels Derek’s body loosen and relax even as his heartbeat ratchets up.

His dad isn’t due home for hours, since he’s got a crime scene to process, so Stiles takes all the time he can, uses up half the lube in his container and fingers Derek until he forgets himself for a second and _thrashes_ , heart going off its rhythm. They both pause at that, and Stiles realizes that he’s panting, breath probably loud in Derek’s ears. A second later, Derek shoves a condom into Stiles’s slippery hands, and that’s definitely a hint to stop teasing. Stiles kisses Derek, quick and sloppy (and oh, that makes his heart stutter again, that’s something to come back to), and gets the condom on over a boner that’s starting to _hurt_ with how much he’s been ignoring it.

“Ready?” he asks, eyes on Derek’s, and reads his lips for the _fuck, just do it_. It takes a second to brace himself for leverage, Derek helping to get himself at the right angle, still looking at Stiles with something like a challenge, heart still beating a little faster every minute.

Derek always tenses for the first few thrusts when Stiles fucks him, not like it hurts but like he’s not sure what to do, and Stiles hears it now in the way his heartbeat goes a little unsteady and the sound stops for a second as Derek’s fingers slip on the end of the stethoscope and it flies off. It’s leaving a little circular imprint in his chest that doesn’t have time to fix itself before Derek puts the stethoscope back over his heart. He nods when Stiles pauses, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, so Stiles starts moving his hips.

Derek always fucks him steady and relentless, picks a pace and sticks to it no matter how much Stiles teases and begs, but Stiles does the opposite. He speeds and slows whenever one or the other gets a reaction, and this time he gets to listen to Derek’s heart following his movements. Every time he does something good, or his stomach brushes against Derek’s erection, Derek’s heart skips a beat, and it’s overwhelming, knowing that he’s the one doing that, that he’s changing something so basic about Derek just with what he’s doing. “Is it always like this for you?” he asks somewhere in the middle of everything, a little too giddy and a little too awed for something he’s trying to make casual.

The question doesn’t make any sense, but Derek opens his eyes, mouth a little quirked and heart giving one-two-three loud thumps, and says “Yes” in a way that somehow gets past the plugs in Stiles’s ears.

Stiles is only human, and he’s only a teenage boy, so it doesn’t take much from there to get his thrusts going fast, hands gripping at Derek’s hips because unless Derek’s riding him it’s hard to jerk him off at the same time. He doesn’t have to worry, though, because Derek probably knows he’s a few minutes from coming and reaches his free hand to wrap around his own dick, hard and fast, matching Stiles’s pace and then a little faster when Stiles struggles to hit his prostate dead on.

Despite his best efforts, Stiles comes first (which is not unusual, because Derek is weirdly chivalrous about that, but he’d like to outlast him someday), but Derek comes while Stiles is still panting, his heartbeat counterpoint with Derek’s, and Derek’s heart just … stops. For a beat or two, and then starts again, thundering fast while Derek gasps for air, chest heaving, but Stiles is still thinking of that silence, half-amazed and half-panicked that he _did that_ , stopped Derek’s heart. With his dick.

He starts giggling, come-drunk, crumpled up awkwardly with his face smashed in Derek’s chest as he goes soft inside him because Derek likes it when Stiles stays for a while even though he will never in a million years admit it. Derek, with a sigh Stiles feels more than hears, dislodges the stethoscope and puts it on the pillow next to him, so the world rushes back in around Stiles. He keeps his head on Derek’s chest but tilts it so he can still feel the faint beat of his heart. “You good?” he manages after a second.

“Are you?” Even fresh off an orgasm Derek manages to sound judgey. It’s one of his superpowers.

“I’m awesome, dude. Never better. I made your heart skip a beat!”

It’s like he can hear Derek roll his eyes. “Come up here.” That means kissing, and Stiles is totally on board with kissing, so he stretches himself out and puts his mouth on Derek’s, slipping out of him and wincing while he does. They’re both messy with Derek’s come and the condom is starting to get really uncomfortable, so he pulls it off and ties it and tosses it in the general direction of the trashcan so he can have some post-coital makeouts.

Stiles sprawls out on top of Derek to kiss him, sticky hand against the pulse in his neck because apparently hearing his heartbeat is addictive. Derek lets out a noise that could be termed amused if Stiles wanted to try his luck and kisses back, running his hand over Stiles’s back, nudging him into a more comfortable cuddling position and rolling them to the side after a few minutes. “We should probably clean up,” Stiles says a little later, not really meaning it, eyes already drooping shut. The post-battle-post-sex adrenaline crash is a fearsome thing.

Derek doesn’t answer. He just tucks Stiles under his chin, pressing them together all over, and moves Stiles’s hand—surprisingly gently, for Derek—to wrap around his wrist, fingers on his pulse. It’s steady now, slowing down as he gets sleepy too, and Stiles wonders if Derek ever gets struck thinking how fragile the heartbeats he hears are, but that’s the kind of question Derek doesn’t have any patience for. “Go to sleep, Stiles,” says Derek, and maybe that’s an answer anyway.

Stiles lets Derek’s heartbeat lull him to sleep.


End file.
